


Medical Emergency

by good_girl_astray



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Loss of Virginity, Multiple Orgasms, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_girl_astray/pseuds/good_girl_astray
Summary: While on a case with Dredd, Anderson gets infected with Toxin 7. The only known treatment is intense sexual release within minutes from the moment of infection, and Dredd is the only man for the job. However, bringing a sexually repressed virgin to orgasm might be a tall order, even for someone as well-endowed and competent as Judge Dredd.
Relationships: Cassandra Anderson/Joseph Dredd
Comments: 62
Kudos: 114





	1. The Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Abundantly influenced by the following amazing fics (which I wished were longer so I didn't have to write my own)  
> [Sex Pollen ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446340) by ros3bud009  
> [This Bitter Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007010) by SoundandColor  
> [Trial and Error](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149313) by thedevilchicken  
> [Mission Report 13.10.27933](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371546)by alamorn

"Respirator!" Dredd shouted.

She was half a second too late. They hadn't worked a case together in months, and her first reaction was to turn to him, instead of heeding his warning without hesitation. She saw him put his respirator on before she reached for her own, and she sensed a delicate flower fragrance before the filters destroyed everything other than the optimized mix of oxygen and nitrogen.

He turned to look at her. She wondered how he managed to express anything with his face covered by the helmet and his mouth by the respirator. She knew she wasn't reading his thoughts, but somehow, she understood that he asked if everything was ok.

She nodded, and looked around, waiting for the mist to appear.

"What was it?" she tried to ask, careful not to detach the respirator.

He seemed to understand her muffled question, because he was answering. It didn't sound like anything she expected. She tried to think of all the dangerous colorless gases, but none of them sounded like the noises that came from Dredd.

Maybe he had said false alarm?

The chances that Dredd would be wrong were laughable. Her mouth quirked around the respirator. Dredd took a step closer to her. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in his visor, and another glimpse, a full HD image from Dredd's mind. She looked weird with that black thing in her mouth, like an old timey pacifier. The plastic felt suddenly uncomfortable. She'd much rather have her lips wrapped around something else.

That was an unsettling thought. She'd never actually done the thing she'd been thinking of. Her eyebrows scrunched, tracking down the thought, in an attempt to find if it came from someone else. Maybe she'd picked up a random thought of someone in the street. It clearly hadn't come from Dredd. Any time she got something from him came in super realistic HD, not a vague image.

It took her a few seconds to track down the image to a porn video she'd seen a couple of years earlier. Back when she was pretty sure she'd never make it as a judge and celibacy would no longer be the recommended state.

What would that feel like? His hard cock sliding past her lips, heavy on her tongue.

His?! She shook herself.

A growl rose from Dredd's throat. She scanned the edges of his mind and saw herself blushing scarlet. He grabbed her upper arm and shoved her through the first door on the left. The man was incredibly adept at communicating with his face covered and without saying a word. His body posture radiated anger. She looked at his big hand, wrapped around her arm. Those were some long, thick fingers. How long and thick was his-

"Ouch!" she yelped nearly dropping the respirator when the needle pierced the skin of her neck. "What the fuck was that?" she tried to ask. All that came out were some muffled sounds that didn't sound anything like those words.

Dredd ignored her, staring at the readings on the device that analyzed her blood. He clamped it back into the kit, then removed his respirator and put it away.

"Damn it, Anderson. You're infected."

She stared at him without understanding.

"The air is fine here," he said, shooting a look at her still covered mouth, clearly annoyed that she hadn't followed his example.

"What do you mean I'm infected?" she asked, storing away her respirator.

"You breathed in a dose of Toxin 7. Your nervous system will collapse in forty-five minutes. One hour, at most."

Toxin 7. Her memory was playing tricks on her. She couldn't remember what Toxin 7 was, although the name seemed familiar. She metaphorically stuck her nose in his memory. He was thinking about the drug at that very moment. The cold facts sparkled as he was studying them. Rapid release neurotoxin. Aphrodisiac side-effects. Only symptomatic treatment available, via intense sexual release. Chances of survival post-treatment: thirty percent. Without treatment: zero.

"How do you like to be touched?"

His words startled her.

"Umm…"

"It's a health emergency, Anderson. It's not ideal, but I'm all you have."

His raspy voice had acquired an edge which uncooperative perps heard before they got shot.

"I'm not trying to be difficult, Sir," she said, taking off her gloves. "I don't know."

"You've never had sex?" he asked bluntly.

She shook her head, working diligently on removing the rest of her uniform to avoid looking at him.

She sensed his displeasure in vivid colors. Right there on the surface of his mind, she read his concern for her safety and his anger with himself. He hadn't had sex recently, which meant he could finish very soon. Her chances to purge the toxin from her system increased with the intensity and duration of her climax.  
Her hands slowed down while she got more and more images and sensations from him. He was running through his limited experience in his mind, trying to figure out what he can do for her. It was different than what Kay had showed her in Peach Trees.

Kay's focus had been his own satisfaction, and that had made the images cold and sharp, like shards of ice.

Dredd's intention to help her made the images warm and soft. They slid straight into her mind, touching the parts of her brain that dealt with the senses. Everything he thought about doing to her, she felt as if he was already doing it.

_She was naked, lying on the bed, with her back flush against the cool sheets and her legs parted. His big hand pressed on her inner thigh, and she took the hint. She spread them more, making room for him. He lowered his head and ran his tongue along her pussy. He probed her entrance with the tip of his tongue, then trailed it up until he found her clit._

He was wondering if she tasted like she looked. Like sunshine and flowers. Like golden honey.

"Stop," she whispered.

He paused with his hands on the zipper of his leather vest, and only then she saw that he, too, was undressing.

"Not that," she said waving him to keep taking off his clothes. "Your thoughts are too loud."

The uncovered part of his face flushed. His annoyance hit her like a backhand slap across the face after the previous sensations of utter delight.

"I assure you, Anderson, if this wasn't a life or death situation-"

"You wouldn't fuck me with someone else's dick, I get it," she interrupted him, the careless words slipping out of her mouth in frustration.

His lips twitched. Cassandra Anderson had believed that his scowl couldn't get any deeper. She'd been wrong.

"We'll work with what we have," he said.

His iron resolve felt like a hurricane. A force of nature. He was going to make her come, no matter what.


	2. The Virtual Scenario

Her skin burned.

With each piece of clothing she removed, it got steadily worse. Hotter. This sparsely furnished room felt like an oven. Or maybe, like the Cursed Earth. Was this what the air outside Mega-City One was like? Would she feel this unbearable scorching sensation on the inside, as well as on the outside? She stared at her hands, then at the bare skin of her arms and legs. How could everything look normal? She expected to see her flesh charred.

Dredd's voice jolted her brain out of the spiral of insanity. 

"Anderson!"

She struggled to turn her head toward him. It was as if she was fighting against a forcefield. His leather jacket and his bulletproof vest were draped on the back of the only chair in the room. He was still wearing his leather pants. A black tank top covered his torso. He had taken off his gloves, but not the wrapping over his knuckles. His helmet was still in place. The in-built lighting system of the room was hanging out of the walls. Light from the crooked lamp reflected in his visor. It increased the awareness that he was glaring at her. 

How was he not even sweating in this unbearable heat? She stared at the only uncovered part of him. His arms. The scars were as well defined as his muscles.

Her gaze strayed to that part of his lower abdomen where she had seen him staple his flesh after being shot.

"Get in bed," he commanded.

The heat inside her rose to a dangerous level. If she had to be honest, the sound of his voice always raised her inner temperature. The rise was barely noticeable when they were in danger. The heat wave was stronger when he was just talking to her. The day of her assessment, she had blamed it on nerves. When he gave her the badge she had been so sure she'd lost… she'd felt it full force. She lied to herself that it was the excitement. That she was buzzing with pride in her achievement.

She couldn't lie to herself now.

Her gaze bounced between the bed and the man who would meet her there. Despite the sweltering heat, she shivered with each step she took. She was burning hot and scared stiff as she lied down in bed. His crisp thoughts, constantly pinging against her overly-sensitized perception, were not helping.

He was planning what he had to do to her like a military operation. The dryness of his thoughts did nothing to calm her down. It didn't matter it looked like a sex-ed film. She starred in that film. She saw herself as he saw her. Small and vulnerable. A memory flashed though his mind. The day they met. He patched her up while the elevator went down from Ma-Ma's floor. But before that, when they had entered Peach Trees… he hadn't expected her to survive. Not in that place. Not without a helmet.

She gasped loudly when he took off his own. No one she knew had seen Judge Dredd without his helmet.

And she wasn't going to see him either because he remained with his back to her until he turned off the lights. She exhaled relieved. She'd been curious about what he looked like since she first heard about him. She'd heard tales of his horrible disfigurement. She'd postulated that he actually looked normal and that would tarnish the super-human mythos created around himself. Now… all the curiosity had been burned out of her. 

The room plunged into total darkness.

Outside the door, the fight was over. Dredd had killed the last perp seconds after he released that stupid Toxin 7. She heard the medical team rushing toward the wounded and the dead. Their thoughts and feelings barely brushed against her conscious mind. Something else consumed all her mental resources.

In Dredd's mental sex-ed film, he was running his hands over her breasts, teasing her nipples with his rough fingertips. A tense smile tugged at her lips. He imagined she had tiny breasts. He was going to be surprised. Not massively surprised, but still, there would be more for his large hands to hold. In his mind, she was almost flat-chested.

The smile faded when he lowered his head. He ran his soft tongue over a nipple. He gathered her small breast one hand and started sucking at her nipple. His other hand was on her inner thigh, nudging her to open for him.

She was such a little thing. He had to be careful not to hurt her. He had only one chance to do this. She might not survive anyway, but he would do all that stood in his power. She spread her legs as much as she could, but it wasn't enough. He had to force her thighs further apart. He switched to her other nipple and adjusted his position until he was aligned to her entrance.

He brushed his fingertips over her folds, then gently parted them. He found her damp. He frowned. She would need more lubrication than that to take him without pain. With a deepening scowl, he abandoned her tiny breasts. He crawled out of the narrow bed and arranged her body, dragging her across the bed. No. Too harsh. He caressed her outer thigh and gently shifted her across the bed. Better.

He knelt before the bed and prepared himself. He wasn't at ease with any part of a sexual encounter, but performing oral sex was the worst. He couldn't tell if he was doing it right. With the restrictions placed on judges regarding sexual and emotional relations, he didn't get the chance to get any good at it. If his instincts served him on the street, they would have to serve him here, too.

"Relax, Anderson. You have to let yourself enjoy this."

"Yes, Sir," she said but he could feel tension in her young body.

She didn't fight him when he opened her legs again. Her reactions were normal for someone in an unfamiliar situation. The good thing was that she trusted him. She was going to allow him to invade her in this desperate attempt to save her life.

When his mouth touched her pussy, she tensed up, but didn't say anything. She clutched at the sheets, and tried to control her breathing. He kissed her puffy lips and wondered what it would feel like to kiss her mouth. His tongue snaked between them, in search of her clit, and when he found it, he started working on it the way he had worked on her nipples. Her reactions were considerably more intense. He soon felt his chin soaking in her juices. He probed her entrance with two fingers. They slid right in and instead of a hiss of pain, he heard a moan. Anderson's ass lifted off the bed as she arched to get more of him.

Excellent. He raised his head and unzipped his pants, not allowing his mind to linger on his mostly soft dick. He took himself in hand. With a few practiced tugs and the sound of her heavy breathing, he became fully erect in a few seconds.

"Anderson, are you ready?"

It shocked her to hear his voice aloud saying the same thing he was saying in his sex-ed film.

"Sir?"

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, and climbed in bed with her.

As he had done in his imagination, he went straight for her breasts. She thought that seeing his mental rehearsal prepared her for the real thing. It hadn't.

Judge Dredd had his hands on her breasts, and, if he kept to his plan, his mouth was going to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I apologize for this chapter? Or are you happy that you get to read more Judge Dredd smut?


	3. The First Attempt

In normal conditions, reading a fellow judge was a breach of etiquette. She didn't hold back now any more than she did when she ran into the judge who pretended to be her backup in Peach Trees. This was life and death. Again. Unfortunately, it was about a thousand times more difficult to keep a straight head when she was naked and in bed with a man for the first time in her life.

Dredd wasn't hard to read if she tried. She'd seen the shape of his mind from behind a one-way mirror when the Chief Judge asked her to describe the unknown person who was with her. The wall, the mirror, his helmet, none of them had been obstacles. The only reason she hadn't dived straight into his mind was the very fact that they were assessing her. She'd made it far for a mutant. She hadn't wanted to risk it all for an avoidable breach of etiquette.

The breach was unavoidable now. He was close. Too close. The skin contact alone would've opened the door to his mind. With his helmet off, she had full access. Only her own emotions clouded her vision. But even clouded, she saw everything.

The first difference from his game plan came as soon as he touched her breasts. Bigger than he'd imagined. The breasts of a fully grown woman. A faint spike of pleasure went through him. He forced it down, angry with himself. This operation didn't require anything more than physical stimulation. Even for Anderson, the pleasure should come without emotion.

He doubted that she could do that. Her gift put her in contact with people and he'd seen her show emotion on countless occasions. She'd shown mercy. Revulsion. Sadness. Anger. Insecurity. Doubt. Determination. Confidence. She would feel emotion tonight, too. If he did his job right, it would be delight and satisfaction. Nothing else.

But he wasn't supposed to feel anything. He was going to forget this ever happened.

He'd have a lot to forget, he realized with horror when he enjoyed the soft moan escaping from Cassandra's lips as he first touched her nipple with his tongue. He'd have to forget that not only her body responded when they touched.

His hot mouth clamped around her nipple, his large hands cupping, molding, squeezing her breasts, the weight of him on top of her, everything added to the fire inside her. She was going to burst into flames any moment. Something pulsated deep inside her, sending shockwaves of desperate desire. The heat spilled out of her, coating her passageway with molten lava. As if Dredd sensed this, he probed her entrance with two fingers.

Without hesitation, he reached between her legs. She was wet. Another difference from the virtual scenario he had run through. He should have been relieved about the way his fingers slid right in, soaked in the liquid that proved she was aroused. He wasn't. He'd been looking forward to improving his oral sex skills.

He caught the thought. He sensed the sliver of disappointment. It was as if Dredd had a mini-Dredd patrolling the blocks and highways of his mind.

No.

This could not happen.

He sharpened his senses and forced the want out of his mind. He didn't want this. He had to do this. He could have sex without pleasure. He'd done it before.

The effort it took Dredd to contain his pleasure hit her like a punch in the face. It wiped away the exhilaration she felt under his touches. The fire inside her burned hot and dry. The molten lava dried inside her. His thick fingers sliding in and out of her were causing her pain instead of pleasure.

"What happened?" he barked when he became aware of the change.

She felt his frustration. He'd done something wrong and he didn't know what. The mini-Dredd inside his mind reminded him that time was running out. He couldn't afford to screw it up.

"I don't know," she lied.

"How do you touch yourself?"

She blushed and instinctively tried to squeeze her legs shut.

"It's not a trick question, Anderson," he said, and pulled his fingers out of her with a loud pop.

Not a trick question. Celibacy was encouraged, but self-satisfaction was allowed. She was tempted to dive deeper in his memories, to find one of Dredd working out his human urges on his own. 

He ran his fingertips over her skin, gradually forcing his way back between her thighs. She relaxed her legs muscles, allowing him to regain the lost ground. He caressed her lips patiently, without slipping his fingers between them.

If he could have an orgasm without emotion, so could she. Determined, she spread her legs a little wider, hoping that his fingers would slide inside.

"Show me," he said.

There was only command in his voice. In his mind, ruthless, unbending resolve to see this mission through.

She could do this.

She swallowed hard, and ventured to touch him. He allowed her tiny hand to guide him. With her other hand, she opened her pussy delicately, to give him access to her clit. She placed the fingertip of his middle finger there, as if she was going to scan it for future recognition. He let her show him the soft touch she liked. He learned the pressure and the speed, and when she removed her hand, he did it perfectly without guidance.

She didn't want to come like this. If survival depended on the duration and intensity of her orgasm, this would not do. Even if it was Dredd's hand generating the pleasure, the orgasm couldn't be much more powerful than what she achieved on her own.

That thing he did in his preparation… The thing he'd been sorry to skip this time… What would that feel like?

"Umm," she began awkwardly.

"This is not the moment to be shy, rookie," he said.

He hadn't called her rookie since that day in Peach Trees. The day he hadn't thought she'd survive.

"Right," she said. "Umm, Sir, you said that my chances are better if I have a longer and more intense orgasm…"

Her voice had grown fainter and her cheeks had grown hotter with each word.

"I don't remember saying that aloud," he said.

"You thought it very loudly. So… is that true?"

"There weren't enough cases of survivors to be definite," he said almost angrily, continuing to rub her clit. He relented. "But it can't hurt your chances. Why do you ask?"

"When I do this… it's very… utilitarian. Not exactly intense. I was wondering if you know any other…"

"Yeah," he said gruffly in the awkward silence.

She expected a spark of pleasure from him, but mini-Dredd didn't allow him to enjoy kneeling between her legs and burying his face in her pussy.

She was never going to be able to look at his scowling mouth again without remembering what it did to her. He should not have worried about his lack of practice. His tongue on her clit felt so much better than his or her own fingers ever had. His stubble grated harshly against her sensitive inner thigh. She had never imagined that pain and pleasure could blend so well.

And yet…

For every moment of delight he took in the taste and feel of her, his inner judge berated him. For any glimmer of desire to be a man with the woman in front of him, he felt humiliated.

He wasn't aware of how this affected her. His mouth and fingers were building up her climax and his thoughts were destroying it, like ocean waves destroyed sandcastles.

If this went on, she was not going to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone reading this should send a nice karmic thank you to the people who left comments. There's nothing that makes me write as fast as encouraging comments. I like kudos, but they're not as motivating to keep going.
> 
> I'm aware there are spelling errors and some actual mistakes. I see them when I re-read the story but by the time I get to my laptop, I usually forget about them. If you see them and tell me exactly where they are, I'll be happy to fix them for future readers.
> 
> So.. I have no idea how long I can keep this going. I hope to wrap it u p in 5 chapters. This is most likely going to be my only Dredd fic, and as such, I want to have as much fun with him as I can.


	4. The Mid-Emergency Reevaluation

"Sir?"

"What is it, Anderson?"

They should add this soundbite of Dredd's voice that in the dictionary entry for "frustrating".

She hadn't imagined that his voice could get any grittier. Except, now it didn't exactly sound like a saw cutting through bone. It sounded… husky? Dark and delicious, and at the same dry and distant.

"Permission to speak freely?"

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, soaking the hand wrap in her juices. He held back the impulse to chastise her for wasting time by asking permission in such a crisis. He'd only add to the time waste if he did.

"Permission granted."

"I appreciate that you don't want to take pleasure in my misfortune but…"

What would he think about her if she couldn't have an orgasm without resorting to base human emotions? She'd lose his good opinion of her. He might think she was the one taking advantage of the situation to fulfill her dirty fantasy. He might be right about that… In a way, this was hero-worship, taken to the next level.

"Anderson, you can't afford to waste time being coy."

She got the rest of the speech straight from his mind. _Think of me as a tool you need to use in order to survive. Say what you to have say. Take what you need and live to fight another day._

"I need you to enjoy what you're doing."

The words burst out of her mouth, and she was met with a wave of confusion from him. She struggled to find the words. It was increasingly difficult to focus through the haze of desire and frustration.

"When you're not allowing yourself to feel pleasure, you're also blocking me. This situation is nothing like a regular injury. You have to stop thinking that if you enjoy this, you're enjoying my misfortune." She faltered. "You have to let yourself feel. I'm sorry, sir."

He was beginning to understand. And he hated it.

That thing she sensed behind his control pulsated. She wondered what it was. Maybe later, she would examine her memories of this moment and puzzle it out. If she survived.

"Do you want me to live?"

To him, she sounded so small, soft, scared. The thing behind the control writhed. It reacted to her voice. To the harmonics of vulnerability. To the possibility that she would die. To one or to all of them, she didn't know.

She put all her hopes, all her fear and all the madness burning through her veins in one word.

"Joe?"

Somehow, her voice reached beyond the control. It fed the creature that lived in the concrete bunker of his self-restraint.

"Yeah."

She'd heard that one-word reply dozens of time. It never failed to amaze her that it could sound different in each situation. This time, it was more than a simple answer to her question. Of course he wanted Judge Anderson to live. But now she knew that, even more, he wanted Cassandra to live.

"How do you like to be touched?"

Her question triggered a tidal wave of emotions and memories in him. He'd never allowed anyone to touch him for the purpose of offering him pleasure. At his weakest, he had accepted help. Nothing intimate. Nimble fingers cleaning his skin prior to cutting into his flesh or sewing him back together.

Sex was a different matter. He had experienced it before. More than once. It hadn't been Toxin 7 or alien mind control. He'd succumbed to the need to feel alive after an unusually scary brush with death. He'd allowed others to take comfort in his body in their hour of need.

Sex could be sterile and clean or messy and dirty. He'd not hated it either way. Not by a long shot. But he'd always been able to maintain his composure. He hadn't allowed himself to enjoy it any more than he'd enjoy closing a case without casualties. Anything more than that got locked out, relegated to the world without control.

Emotions… He had a few. He was still, mostly, human. He responded to situations.

Feelings on the other hand… He didn't have many of those. He didn't even love the law as many said behind his back. The Law was an immutable part of reality. He didn't love it any more than the loved gravity.

He hadn't loved anyone. Ever. He hardly cared about anyone on a personal level. The world was split between perps and innocents, but people could easily slip from one category to another. Even the judges, whom he set aside from the rest, were either perps or innocents themselves. 

The closest he had gotten to affection had been a dark shade of compassion for the weak. Like dogs might feel for sheep. He hadn't really cared.

Until now.

This little girl who wanted to make a difference into this convulsing, choking world, she mattered to him. She mattered in a way that was wrong. Twisted. Forbidden.

Instinctively, he pulled away from the thought. In his mind, the other Judge Dredd was about to squash that seed under his boot before it could grow into a sapling.

Yes. He wanted her to live.

"I don't want to die," she whispered and he stopped thinking.

He booted open the door, and allowed himself to feel.

He reached out through the darkness, searching blindly for her face. Her cheeks fitted unexpectedly well in his hands. Maybe she wasn't as small as he saw her. He'd been wrong about her breasts, too. This time, he allowed himself to linger over the sensory information. Her skin was soft and warm.

She leaned her head, pressing her right cheek into his left palm.

He… liked it.

His thumb moved of its own accord, brushing over her cheek bone. Cassandra's small sigh provoked another reaction. He paused, fighting back the urge to take his hands off her. The fluttering in the pit of his chest was a new and uncomfortable sensation. Touching her was the cause of it.

She felt him striving to keep the door open when everything inside him screamed to shut it. That door lead into a trap. Pleasure was a trap. Attachment was a trap. Against his training, he was letting himself be pulled through that door for her.

He wanted more, and she was all too willing to let him.

_Explore me._

She didn't say the words out loud. It wasn't the sort of thing someone said to Judge Dredd. Besides, what if he was right? He was always right. Maybe she shouldn't want more than an anemic, utilitarian orgasm. What right did she have to demand him to enjoy something so intimate? They were little more than strangers, after all.

He wasn't a psychic but something in the way her body responded told him she was drifting away.

"You have to let yourself enjoy this, too."

She nodded, silently.

Now that he wasn't actively holding back, there was nothing to block the feel of his hands on her face and the scent of her own arousal on his skin from wreaking havoc inside her.

His thumb brushed over her lips. She opened her mouth instinctively, wanting to capture it. Instead, he used the thumb as guidance. Their mouths connected in the deep darkness. She was getting her wish. Dredd explored her. He used his lips, then his tongue. The kiss morphed from pressure to suction to penetration. 

She hadn't expected the kiss.

He hadn't planned it, or she would've seen the shape of it in his mind. He had reacted to his own desire. Apparently, his desire was to be inside her.

After the thing he'd done to her pussy, she shouldn't have been surprised by the expert touch of his tongue or by its length, but she was. All she could do was let herself be invaded. He was taking pleasure in the conquest and that fed the madness inside her. 

"Is it supposed to be like this?" she asked breathlessly.

He caressed her hair. "I think so."

It shocked Cassandra how clearly he saw her. He wasn't really seeing her. No human eyes could see in this darkness. But his image of her was sharp to the last detail. Her eyes were glazed with desire. Her ravaged, swollen lips were parted. He even guessed that she'd run her tongue over them.

"It would explain some of the mad things people do," she said.

She couldn't help the sensation that he'd seen her like this before. Except, he couldn't have. She'd never been touched like this. She'd never looked like this. She didn't even know if she looked like this now.

Something beeped on the floor.

"Fifteen minutes," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Crazy."

Only fifteen minutes had passed? All this insanity had happened in fifteen minutes? It felt like a lifetime.

She pulled his head down for another kiss. She could do this for hours.

_I don't have hours._

If these were her last few minutes of life, she was going to be greedy.

"Would you… undress?"

He didn't answer. She heard the rustling of fabric against skin, a faint current of air and then the sound of his top landing on the floor.

"You better survive," he muttered while he took off his leather trousers.

"I'll do my best, sir," she said.

_What happened next?_

His sex-ed film had stopped before penetration. Nothing that had happened so far bore much resemblance to the dry and purely functional theory she had been taught.

What was Dredd going to teach her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so he's a bit less in character now. The idea that he used Cassandra as part of his self-satisfaction routine isn't what I wanted, but that's how it came out. 
> 
> Also, sorry about leaving it before the best moment again. The chapter was getting too long and I have a deadline for a similar project in 2 days. The lovely comments from Lynn_Nexus and dani_grl82 made me work on this instead of my original (and paid) work.


	5. The Successful Second Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause. I finished a few original stories in the meantime. Including my first Urban Fantasy full-length novel. Yay for me!  
> But this movie is an obsession and each unfinished project is tugging at my attention annoyingly.   
> I could almost mark this as completed because the sex pollen situation was resolved and they're not supposed to end up having a relationship. 
> 
> However, I planned on writing 2 more chapters "The Post-Emergency Evaluation" and "The Aftermath Disaster" but I have no idea when I'll get around to writing them. I'm tempted to mark the story as completed just to be able to cross it off my to do list. 
> 
> Comment if you want to read more. 
> 
> For future readers, send karmic thank you-s to the lovely people who commented so far.

She saw the shadow in his mind. Fear? Of what?

The heat was beginning to melt her brain. She imagined the synapses dissolving one by one until there would be a critical collapse.

She ignored her own fears, the fear of dying, the fear of losing her mind. She ignored the sensation that Death was in the room with them. She needed to know what was the cause of his fear.

He stood by the bed, determinedly gathering his composure. He tried to run another simulation in his mind, but he didn't go beyond being naked next to her.

She pushed past his conscious mind, and delved deeper. She saw that, if things didn't go well tonight, he would live with the guilt of not being able to save her. Beyond the guilt, the shadow grew even larger. He was afraid of what would happen to him if she survived. She could only live if he let go of his control. Losing control would cost him the very essence of his being.

Kissing her had been a hundred times more intense than anything he'd imagined when he used her image to achieve his own utilitarian climaxes. How much worse was it going to be to go all the way?

He was fighting the urge to reassert control. In essence, he was fighting for his own soul.

"You don't have to do it," she said.

"Changed your mind, rookie?" he asked gruffly. "You'd rather die than have sex with me?"

"I'd rather die than hurt you."

Dredd's inner battle ended with those words. They triggered an explosion inside him. The shadow of fear turned to dust. Mind-patrolling Dredd was nowhere to be seen. His mind was empty except for the image of her.

_You're not gonna die. Not tonight. Not if it's in my power to save you._

She lost track of his thoughts. His visceral desire obliterated anything coherent.

"Can you feel what I'm feeling?" he asked.

She focused her perception. His eagerness tasted like cotton candy and heroine. She dug her nails into the bedsheets to keep the top of her head from unscrewing.

"Oh, yes. I can feel it all."

He wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her as she came apart under his touches. She caught this sliver of desire inside the maelstrom of swirling thoughts. She latched on to it, and saw that he wanted to see her but didn't want to be seen by her.

"Blindfold me," she said.

He hesitated.

"We don't have much time. Turn on the lights and find something to use as a blindfold. I'll keep my eyes shut."

She sat up on her knees in the middle of the bed, waiting with her eyes closed, like she was praying. Maybe she was. Her prayer was answered. In the heavy silence, she heard him cross the room, and the lights came back on with a flicker. Most of the lamps were burned out. The few that still worked were dim and dirty.

The temptation to peek was overwhelming. She wouldn't care if he was disfigured by scars, or birth defect or even if he was objectively ugly. He cared though, so she wanted to keep her eyes closed. She only had a moment in which she could see him without him noticing it. She opened her eyelids a fraction while he turned back to face her.

Maybe it was the poor lighting, because she didn't catch sight of anything objectionable. She only glimpsed a side of his face, and she wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line-up, but what she saw was, if anything, ordinary.

With her eyes closed, she saw herself through his eyes. She felt his penis hardening at the sight of the blonde girl, with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. Her breasts quivered deliciously with each frantic breath. He'd love to spend hours playing with them.

_She doesn’t have hours._

He looked down at his erection. His shaft never got this big on its own. It only got this big and aching hard moments before orgasm. The girl licked her lips and he received the image of the kneeling girl wrapping her lips around his engorged flesh. His penis twitched. A bead of precome oozed at the top.

"Stop it," he said harshly as she imagined swirling her tongue eagerly over the mushroom tip.

"Sorry," she slurred. "I never—"

He interrupted her. "I know we're supposed to enjoy this but if you want to live, don't make me come with your mind."

She nearly opened her eyes at the sound of fabric being ripped. Her mind was in such chaos, she had lost track of him. He'd picked up his black tank top and ripped it to fashion a blindfold which he wrapped around her eyes. His cock bumped into her flesh, smearing her skin with precome. They shared an image of a jet of semen sprayed over her breasts. She wondered vaguely if it came from his mind or hers.

_Another time,_ he thought swooping down to kiss her after he tightened the blindfold her eyes.

"Promise?" she whispered.

"You have to stay alive to find out."

She ran her hands through his short hair. Dredd put his arm around her waist and lowered her in bed. He relished the sight of her red cheeks and her swollen lips parted with impious lust. She could only see her own face in his mind, but she felt his muscles shifting and wished she wasn't blindfolded. The miracle happening above her was something no human had probably witnesses. Joe Dredd was smiling.

Judge Dredd, she corrected herself, and the absurdity of the situation struck her. She was lying on her back, naked, while Judge Dredd hovered over her, also naked.

"Ready?"

Her answer came as a hot, breathless whimper. "Yeah."

"Good," he said.

His rough hand brushed the outside of her thigh, before reaching between them. She parted them and tried to prepare herself for his entry. He hesitated, but for the first time that night, it wasn't reluctance to have sex. He didn't want to finish too fast, and only partly because the duration and intensity of her orgasm would give her a better chance to survive. The other part was that he wanted to feel good and to make her feel good.

A sharp beep on the floor marked that fifteen more minutes had passed. She saw the number burning in his mind.

"Next time," she said, while he started descending into her.

He didn't say anything but she heard the reply in his mind. _Yeah._ The same one-word reply that meant so many things.

She teetered on the edge between pleasure and pain while he stretched out inner muscles. Despite the abundant lubrication, she felt like he was splitting her apart. She yelped when, out of nowhere, she felt another kind of pain deep inside her. And then another kind of lubrication.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, while he thrusted his hips gently but relentlessly into her.

It did, and yet… it felt good. She held her breath and shifted underneath him, trying to find a better position.

"It'll be better soon," he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her, still moving slowly in and out of her

Yeah. Kisses were good. Tenderness and madness came with them. The pain receded. Her hips moved and his massive cock seemed to click into place. He began to move faster, adjusting the speed and force of his movements to her reactions. Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly deep inside her.

Her hands roamed over his back, trailing through the sheen of sweat covering his scarred skin. His strong muscles knotted and unknotted under the surface. His spine curled up, so that he could keep thrusting while they went on kissing.

There was nothing elegant about the way she panted. She didn't have a single distinct thought under the obliterating wave of pleasure. She was coming down her climax when she heard the beep on the floor. A tiny sliver of post-orgasmic clarity allowed her to realize that they had passed the forty-five minutes mark.

He moved to get out of her, but she dug her heels into his back, signaling him to keep going. He resumed thrusting, gently at first, but he picked up speed.

"Fuck yeah," she panted.

That was how sex with Dredd should be. Hard and fast. Ruthless. Violent. He pounded into her, trying to ignore her second orgasm, blinded by the need to keep going. He stayed on the knife-edge of orgasm while she shuddered around him.

"Can't hold back anymore," he said through gritted teeth. _Wanna come inside._

"Come in me," she said, settling his unspoken debate.

Even after her invitation, he managed to postpone his release for a few minutes. He groaned loudly, victoriously when he finally spilled his seed inside her. There was something primeval about the satisfaction he got when he filled her up. Something he never felt before.

It got awkward immediately. He stood up and put on his helmet without a word. She untied the knot of her blindfold and retrieved her clothes, too embarrassed to glance at the naked man.

They were both fully dressed when he tested her blood again.

"Negative," he said, without any emotion.

"Thank you," she said.

She felt the walls of his control reasserting themselves, higher and thicker than ever before. He wasn't trying to hide his thoughts or emotions from her. He was trying to scorch the earth so that nothing like that would ever grow again. It hurt to witness him torture himself like that.

"No one will ever know what happened here," she said.

_I'll know._

His thought came as clear as if he'd said it aloud.

"I will never forget what you did for me," she said. "And I'm not talking about saving my life. You made me feel things I didn't imagine I'd ever feel. I know what cost you."

Dredd turned away from her, ostensibly checking his Lawgiver. She didn't need to read his mind when his body language spoke so loudly. He didn't believe her. He was employing the traditional coping mechanism called denial.

"Listen to me," she insisted. "Breaking a rule to save my life is in the spirit of the Law. Nothing that happened between us is a stain on your character. Or mine. Not the fact that we broke a rule. Not the fact that we enjoyed it. You need to believe me."

"Yeah."

She let out a small sigh of relief. She needed to use a hundred words to express herself. He managed to express a hundred meanings with the same one word.

It didn't mean that he believed her. It only meant that he understood what she meant, and he was going to take into consideration her words when he sifted everything that happened through the fine sieve of his morality.


End file.
